Speaking as a tourist and not normally used to riding with these lens covers; when looking in my mirrors, I found it was defintiely easier to pick out Ian's orange light versus a regular clear one. I can't really comment on Paul's yellow lens since I can't actually ever remember being in front of him

Extra 200kms in the dark and a little rain...not great after the days riding.
But the home cooked meal and my old bed ... was worth it in the end.

I hope the bed was worth it, since I managed to get the home cooked meal without riding 'any' further; and very tasty it was too - thanks Koshik's mom for the curry care package. As I recall it was the best breakfast I tasted on the whole trip, although given the competition, that's not saying too much Any chance you could ship some more?

Yeah - they're pretty bright too Mikie. However, what's the dip beam like on your GS? - I've got the HIDs on my KTM and they're so bright it's like going into total darkness when you go to dip. It wouldn't be the first time I'd stopped to check if the dip bulb had burned out.

Yeah - they're pretty bright too Mikie. However, what's the dip beam like on your GS? - I've got the HIDs on my KTM and they're so bright it's like going into total darkness when you go to dip. It wouldn't be the first time I'd stopped to check if the dip bulb had burned out.

Douf

Dipped beam is almost no difference to High beam, High beam on the GS seems to light up the passing tree tops mainly

I hope the bed was worth it, since I managed to get the home cooked meal without riding 'any' further; and very tasty it was too - thanks Koshik's mom for the curry care package. As I recall it was the best breakfast I tasted on the whole trip, although given the competition, that's not saying too much Any chance you could ship some more?

CARE package was for ME .. I didnt expect you guys to have curry for breakfast .. (I thought I had it all to myself!)

Ok I am also here- just not in my "own form" cos some %#&^*(&)* already has my nick on this forum so .....great report Douf (now what does that mean? Is like gas and lights and boots instead of petrol ,robots and topboxes?) Looking forward to the rest...and I did get enough smacks along the head after the PE "mishap" thanks.....but you're welcome to do it when we get over there...afterall I have a much better chance of getting lost there

Gorgeous country too.. rivals - dare I say - Australia for sheer magnificence! Thanks for sharing your ride and pics with us

Ha! Ha! funny you should mention Australia - I've just bumped into a ex Aussie resident, who's started work with my company and has a motorcycling brother still over there. I was thinking about pulling the same stunt on him (take me to your country)

Ok I am also here- just not in my "own form" cos some %#&^*(&)* already has my nick on this forum so .....great report Douf (now what does that mean? Is like gas and lights and boots instead of petrol ,robots and topboxes?) Looking forward to the rest...and I did get enough smacks along the head after the PE "mishap" thanks.....but you're welcome to do it when we get over there...afterall I have a much better chance of getting lost there

Hey Cindy,
Welcome and glad to hear the general took you to task on that PE stunt. I'm sure we'll be able to come up with a suitable Americanism for Enduro. I'm thinking.......

As far as 'Douf' is concerned: when my stepson was young, he used to mispronounce 'Phil' as 'Douf'. Subsequently I found out that 'Douf' is a euphemism for either 'doufus' or 'douche bag', so maybe his diction was intentional. Either way it's oddly appropriate

Looking through the photos from today's adventure, apparently the conditions were as bad as I'd remembered since between us, we don't seem to have taken any shots of actual riding. The morning started out with us in full waterproof gear heading out at our usual early, but today not particularly bright, hour. Since Koshik and Nerissa had spent the night with family in Pietermaritzberg (and if they had any sense were staying out of this meteorological mess for a couple more hours), it was a reduced crew that set out from Kokstad.

Fireblade waits patiently in PMB, meanwhile...............

The rest of us.............

Deal with this crap

Should've stayed in bed with the leftover pizza

Initially heading out on the R617 the route passed through the villages of Franklin, Swartburg and Kingscote. The weather conditions were generally worse than those of the previous day with a steady rain coupled with a thick fog that limited visibility considerably, and it soon became one of those rides where your visor constantly requires wiping and you promise yourself that you'll look into an anti fogging treatment at the very next opportunity (no - I haven't).

A dirty motorcycle - earlier today

Presently we passed through Underberg, which according to my subsequent research is situated at the foot of the 1,904 m Hlokoma Peak (place of echoes). On this particular day however, it could just as well have been situated at the base camp of Mount Everest and I'd have been none the wiser. The group progress through these mountainous roads was occurring in a carefully methodical fashion, and as far as I could tell (given the visibility available), after leaving Kokstad the countryside had returned once more to the essentially rural surroundings that had been typical of yesterday's route, with very few signs of significant urban development. That being the case I assumed the prevalence of wandering livestock to be somewhat similar, but in the current fog, I couldn't see more than the occasional cow wandering along the road, which inevitably made the feeling of impending disaster that much greater. After passing through Underberg the route continued through the settlement of Bulwer, which is nestled in the shadow of the Amahwaqa mountain (the English meaning translates to 'the misty one' appropriately enough).

Another dirty motorcycle

Around this area as I recall, we made a stop which, although not altogether necessary in terms of replenishing our partially depleted gas supplies, was somewhat more desirable as a means of warming up, drying out and relaxing the tendons in our wrists/hands that had been deployed in a nervous handlebar death grip since leaving Kokstad. It occurred to me that, although not unbearably cold, the heated clothing left back home in Atlanta would have been a welcome addition to my environmental defenses at this point in the journey. However I had been collectively assured by my native riding companions (and with not a little amusement I might add) that any type of heated clothing was absolutely surplus to requirements in these parts. Well me old chums, we've got an old rule of thumb back in the US which says it's gonna be about 5F cooler for every 1000ft you gain in elevation, so at our current location (5000ft and foggy), unsurprisingly enough it was quite refreshing at times. I'm just glad we weren't planning to head into Lesotho, where the highest peaks are over 11,000ft. In retrospect guys, I should have been suspicious of this information when most of you showed up for the trip dressed in leathers - which are only really ever appropriate either at a racetrack, or if you're trying to cajole a bunch of pathetic leg humping losers, with nothing better to do, into pushing your Advrider.com thread over a million views.

http://www.advrider.com/forums/showthread.php?t=386151

- ought to be good for a few hits - you're welcome

Anyway I digress; but while we're on the topic of sartorial elegance, we did come across this rather excellent gentleman at the gas station, who permitted us to snap a couple of shots in exchange for a cigarette.....and nary a knee puck in sight.

WTF is that circular orb near his right ankle

Before stopping for breakfast in Pietermaritzburg we continued along though the persistent rain and drizzle, passing though Boston and Merrivale. Wow! I can only conclude that poor old (Boston native) Gary must have been absolutely terrified during this section of the route, since I can find not a single piece of evidence in our collective archive showing the photographic racing certainty that is either a Boston sign or Gary+Boston sign.
Sorry buddy.
Edit: Maybe it really was 'that' foggy and he just didn't see the sign

Anyway, as I said breakfast was taken at Pietermaritzburg, which was an incredibly surreal sight after splashing through the foggy reaches of the southern Drakensberg foothills all morning. After seeing only a handful of people since leaving Kokstad in the early morning mist, we were now descending into what apparently is a very civilized municipality of between 500,000 and 600,000 inhabitants. (Pietermaritzburg - nickname: the city of choice. Often shortened to Maritzburg, and abbreviated to PMB - something I really wish I'd researched 'before' continuously checking and rechecking the spelling of 'Pietermaritzburg' for the past couple of hours). However, surpassing even the limited likelyhood of running into a place like this out here, was the fact that we were now pulling into what looked like a typical US shopping mall, complete with pay as you enter parking lot. Yes, we are 'very' Adventure - maybe those leathers weren't such a bad choice after all and in retrospect a Harley might've been a better rental option.

Doesn't get more hardcore than this - FRONT PAGE BABY!

Pulling the bikes up to what was essentially the front entrance to the facility , we left them parked on the sidewalk, proceeded to remove our rain soaked gear and headed in for breakfast . Watching all this unfold was a rather officious security guard who, upon our entry into the mall, informed us that we'd need to move the bikes from their current location. I guess he hadn't reckoned on dealing with our esteemed General however, since after a brief discussion, where it was noted that this individual could have immediately informed us of his grievance as we pulled up, because he'd been watching us getting situated the whole time; Paul basically told him to piss off, and that we'd return shortly. Respect!

After thwarting the evil parking lot troll, our intrepid adventurers carefully picked their way through the zombie-like mall droids in search of the ultimate prize

Concluding the otherworldly series of events that by now had come to constitute this strange breakfast stop, the General led us through the impressively spit shined mall avenues, past what appeared to be small gatherings of predictably attired middle class shoppers (I can't say I ever noticed any other members of the Hilfiger/Lauren set in the entire country, either before or after that particular morning; and so I'm speculating that in reality these people were actors, hired by the facility to create the typical bland ambiance preferred by mindless mall clientele the world over) - and into that crucible of all things caffeinated and calorific which.............. wasn't a Wimpy. Actually, I can't remember what the place was called. It was good though, although I seem to recall that our group of grubby adventurers, looking misplaced in such a fine establishment, were generally eyed in a somewhat suspicious fashion by the other impeccably dressed shoppers/actors. :ymca So we went outside onto the adjacent patio, stood by the fake waterfall, had a smoke and mingled with the workers who, if I remember correctly, were fixing the doors on the joint. Much better.

'And after dinner tonight, I've got us into a Bingo tournament'...........while at the mall, Paul tests the limits of our zest for adventure

After breakfast, we jumped on our bikes, handed our tickets in at the parking kiosk and left the tawdry civilization of the shopping mall behind as we headed through the center of PMB. The city's population has, for these parts, a high percentage (between 25% and 30%) of Indians/whites, which I guess explains (a) Koshik and Narissa's previous residence here and (b) the high density of vibrant small business activity I noticed as we rode through the place. Talking of Koshik and Narissa: we had intended to meet them here for breakfast, but even given this morning's eventful progress, they were unprepared for our arrival and so decided to meet us in St. Lucia instead.

The route out of PieterMaritzburg on the R33 would take us through New Hanover and Seven Oaks towards Greytown where it would cut over and join the R74 at Ahrens, through Kranskop, Fort Mtombeni, Otimati and then finally onto Stanger where we would join the N2.The weather at this stage had improved somewhat and visibility was better too. However within a few miles of leaving town, having returned to the lush vegetation that was typical in the majority of the immediate rural areas, conditions returned to the heavy fog/drizzle combination that had so far limited our enjoyment of today's trip. It was a little frustrating that stretches of excellent road and beautiful scenery were being totally obscured by the syrupy mist that characterized the weather. However the fog quickly thickened, further reducing visibility and most of us consequently were probably focused merely on getting out of this mess in one piece. Our speed had slowed dramatically, to a point that I thought was appropriate; but the reality of that judgment error was soon made apparent to Cindy and I, who came across an 18 wheeler stopped on our side of the road. Cindy didn't see it in time to stop and I didn't react any quicker when I saw a combination of it and her brake lights at the last minute. In a blind leap of faith we both passed the stationary vehicle and hoped for the best. My visor at this stage was steaming up constantly, and as the rain fall even harder I tried to keep Cindy's tail light in sight to ease navigation, since it was getting impossible to see which way the road was going (although I hadn't considered what was guiding Cindy I guess). I wanted to keep together as a single entity: Paul was slightly in front, but we'd catch a glimpse of him occasionally, so he was OK, Cindy was in regular view of Gary and I, but Ian and Di had fallen off the back and I was worrying about them. I wanted to stop and wait for them, but there wasn't anywhere safe to pull over and the realities of stopping on the side of the road had been adequately demonstrated by the truck that had almost been the undoing of Cindy and I a couple of miles back. Things got worse when we came across a section of road construction, which had a short detour that ran through a dirt section. Although maybe only a couple of hundred yards long; with the amount of rain that had fallen, the trail was extremely slippery and had a 90 degree turn in it which essentially brought the bikes to a dead stop; and then it traversed a short but steep gully with what looked like a small creek moving rapidly through the bottom of it. I was worried that if one of us fell here, we might have trouble even standing to pick the bike back up in this mess. But, possibly remembering the 'Speed is your friend' mantra, Cindy kept her bike moving steadily forward (although coming up on the rear of a car that was more cautiously proceeding in front of her) and all four of us made it through in one piece. Ian and Di were still out of sight somewhere behind however, and this little obstacle only heightened my sense of concern. Hey! 2 up on a 1200GS, muddy road, watery gully: what could possibly go wrong?

Death grip on the bars? Me? No way!

Fortunately though, a few miles down the road we started to lose elevation, head slowly towards the coast and then the weather started to improve a little. Noticeably, the vegetation had started to look more tropical and the surroundings were giving me a jungle vibe. At Stanger visibility was much better, the rain had just about stopped and the four of us pulled in and nervously waited for Ian and Di. Not too much later thankfully, they came into view, apparently none the worse for wear.

Great to see you guys!

Another dirty motorcycle - earlier

Shit! - me fags are saturated

A sense of relief in all us was evident as we stood by the roadside, munched happily on Cape Cookies (they're delicious) and swapped nail biting anecdotes from the past couple of hours. In fact as I recall there was a general happiness prevalent, since the collective feeling was generally that we'd dodged a bullet (or two) coming out of those hills. Paul in particular seemed to be enjoying himself at this point and we briefly discussed the immediacy of the feelings typical when all your senses are keyed up, doing whatever it takes to pull through an arduous situation like this. It was indeed a great day to be alive.

Damn, these cookies are good

Yeah, they're great with a ciggie too

The bikes were refueled at a nearby gas station where it was with some amusement that our number noticed the 'off the beaten track' store/gas station (at which it appeared you could purchase a little of everything) had Zulu Roosters for sale. A fairly unsavory analogy unfolded, which I won't repeat here; but as I recall it involved a shower, a family member, allegations of sexual impropriety and a member of parliament, who happened to be of Zulu extraction. Suitably amused, we headed out onto the N2, east towards Mtubatuba.

Hmmmmmmmmm............Zulu Roosters

Those little suckers look DELICIOUS - I'll take a dozen to go

Aaawwwwwwwwww.........maybe not. Yet more uninspiring South African wildlife - we've almost made it to the big game and I bet the suspense is KILLIN' YA!

No roosters for me

In the general Mtubatuba vicinity we left the N2 and turned right, heading towards St. Lucia. We stopped here and waited for everyone to regroup and had a quick smoke. It was quite a busy intersection and a car which was coming along the N2 at a pretty good speed went off the road right opposite where we were standing, while it was trying to avoid another vehicle that was blocking the intersection. The car hit a small embankment as it left the road and there was a loud bang caused by the force of impact which stopped the car fairly quickly. Ian immediately ran across to the vehicle and I followed him, although it was quite dangerous trying to get across the busy road on foot. By the time I crossed the road, Ian had already opened the passenger door and pulled a young child (2-3 years old) out of the footwell. The child appeared to be unhurt and Ian handed it to one of the bystanders in the crowd that had quickly formed from the throng of nearby pedestrians. No one was doing much though, just standing around looking at the scene. We went around to the other side to help the driver, who we could see through the windshield had a few cuts to the face. When Ian opened the door there was a very strong smell of alcohol and after having ascertained on the face of it that he was in no immediate medical danger, we decided to split before the cops showed up and delayed us forever with their enquiries.

After that, the rest of the ride to St. Lucia was pretty uneventful. The weather was starting to co-operate and I was even drying out a bit. Once in town, we pulled over, made contact with Koshik and Nerissa (who would join us shortly) and headed down the street to find a hotel. By now our South African friends were taking this cheap motel business pretty seriously and, even without the presence of our preferred negotiators, soon had a couple of neighboring locations battling for our business. Back and forth across the street they went until it became apparent that we were only talking about R120 ($12) a person at either place and the impatient individuals in our number then politely requested that we 'JUST BOOK ONE OF THE DAMN THINGS FOR GOD'S SAKE!'

The proprietors of the place that was eventually selected were indifferent about how they got their $12/head, as long as they got it. So theoretically we could have each had separate apartments and it would have cost no more. As it was the eight of us got a total of four apartments which had an alleyway running between them, and once settled in we spent a few minutes out there BS'ing. At that point some of noticed that were a few uninvited guests loitering around in the area, who were apparently intending to get a free room for the night if possible. These little guys are notorious for getting into rooms and rifling through the place looking for food, and the foreigners amongst us were advised to make sure all the food was hidden from view whenever we left our rooms unoccupied, as they are typically capable of getting into just about anything. Intending to buy a few beers from the bottle store later on, I admit that it entered my head to leave a few open containers in an unsecured location after we had left, and I amused my self with the mental image of a bunch of shitfaced monkeys staggering around incoherently.

Me smell Black Label - yummy!

Bring that bottle opener over 'ere will ya?

The Indian Ocean was only a short walk from the hotel and so (minus Ian and Di) the crew set off in search of the beach. It felt good to walk in what were by now quite pleasant weather conditions after the day's riding ordeal. After wandering down main street (and noticing a number of potential restaurants suitable for the evening's bun fight) we entered an area of tropical looking vegetation which we wandered through for a while.

Looks safe enough to me

A couple of jungle footpaths branched off from the street that we were currently walking down, but any aspirations we had of taking a detour down one were quickly dispelled after viewing warning signs describing the 'unpredictable' nature of the wild animals which may be found therein. An immediate consensus had us continuing down the widest road we could find, however we did find a small snake in the road, with Cindy being brave enough to get it to pose for a shot.

First things first - 'Excuse me, what time does the liquor store close?'

Hey, at least we won't get mowed down by some psycho on an ATV

Finding a small harmless looking snake............

Cindy carefully bends down and......oh sorry, wrong pic

Cindy carefully bends down, pics it up and gets a pic
A little further on we reached a boardwalk area that led to the beach. It was maybe only 18 inches above the swampland and at its' beginning were a couple of interesting signs warning of the Hippo's and Crocodiles in the area. I don't know about the rest of the guys , but I for one was extremely vigilant as I walked across there.

They're probably not that big

After reaching the end of the boardwalk our intrepid band expected to see the ocean immediately ahead. Instead however, the sight of a beach that was doing a passable impression of a desert greeted us. I immediately thought of running back to get suited up on the bike for some fake high adventure action shots, but that idea soon faded and instead I continued along with the rest of the guys.

The tide must've been out

After walking through the soft sand for what seemed like ages, we came over a small rise and the ocean was right there, with some impressive surf crashing onto the shore. Koshik our resident water babe immediately jumped in and although I hadn't originally intended getting wet, I probably won't get another chance to splash around in the Indian Ocean anytime soon, so I jumped it too. I soon jumped right back out though, when the possibility of those nearby freshwater crocodiles wandering out into the surf entered my head.

The beach was deserted

Crocodile snacks

'Damn, these humans are pretty tasty' CHOMP

A dog that was loitering around the 'Do not feed the Crocodiles' area started following us as we left the beach, wandering along back through the area of jungle like vegetation and pursuing us through the town until Cindy took in into a store and had the owner take responsibility for it.

The conclusion of the evening was spent at a local Greek restaurant where we relived the days sporadically exciting events over kebabs and a few beers.

Ha! Ha! funny you should mention Australia - I've just bumped into a ex Aussie resident, who's started work with my company and has a motorcycling brother still over there. I was thinking about pulling the same stunt on him (take me to your country)